


Caustic

by yeaka



Category: Smallville
Genre: Collars, Dominance, Ficlet, M/M, Puppy Play, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:26:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex gifts Clark something to make him more enticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caustic

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set somewhere around late s4/early s5. Fair warning, I haven’t seen past that.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Smallville or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Their ‘friendship,’ if it can still be called that, is still in the tentative stages, but Clark has to acknowledge that there will always be areas where Lex knows more than him. It’s still habit to ask when he needs a favour, because Lex always obliges, even now, and three days after Clark’s newest confession, he gets a call assuring him, “I have just the thing.”

Lex hangs up before Clark can ask what it is, but it doesn’t matter. In this arena, he’ll take any help he can get, and he doesn’t mind making the familiar trip to the manor. 

He arrives likely faster than he should, and when he throws open the grand doors of Lex’s ‘office’—bigger, in fact, than his entire barn—he finds it devoid of human life. He doesn’t bother going to find Lex; one of a dozen security officers will likely pass on the message.

There’s plenty in Lex’s office to occupy Clark in the meantime—books, the pool table, liquor—not that he’d ever take that. Instead, he finds himself drawn to Lex’s desk.

There’s a black box atop it, thin but long, and even closed, it looks more expensive than anything Clark owns. Curious and not above poking around Lex’s things—especially given that he knows Lex would do the same to him—he pops open the metal clasp. The lid lifts to a ninety-five degree angle, showing off a padded interior with a black leather strip inside, ending on either side in silver clips. 

A bulbous oval pendant hangs from the middle, engraved with five letters: _Clark_.

Brows furrowing, Clark lifts the necklace, or what he think is a necklace. It looks tighter and thicker, something like a choker, but more mechanical, and it reminds him of something he can’t put his finger on, his own name throwing him off. Mainly just to see if it’ll even fit and get an answer to his guess, Clark presses it against his throat, the pendant hanging squarely at his collarbone, and tries to fasten it shut behind his neck.

The clasps click together with a distinctive automatic noise. The leather practically jumps out of his hands, and he know instantly that it’s locked, but before he can try to wrench it back open, the pendant pops open like a hollow locket, a familiar green glow shining out of it. 

_Kryptonite_. Clark thinks it too late and just barely stifles a cry as the pain shoots over his throat, ramming down his chest and almost shorting out his brain—he doubles over onto the desk to keep from falling to the floor. The pendant must’ve been iron, but when Clark tries to fumble with it, he can’t seem to get it closed again, and touching the little round rock that hangs from his throat hurts too much to persist at. He reaches to the back of his neck, but before he can touch the lock, the door opens, and he hears the footsteps coming. He looks over, still hunched over the desk, to meet Lex’s knowing grin. 

“I see you found your present,” Lex drawls, steps not slowing. Clark wills himself to stand again, to look normal, not to show the strain, but of course his first fear is that _Lex did this on purpose._ Lex couldn’t know, and Clark can’t give it away, but it’s too much of a coincidence, and _why else_ would Lex stamp a kryptonite trap with his name. 

Standing up straight makes his vision blur, but Clark grounds out around it, “A necklace isn’t exactly what I meant.”

Lex snorts, shoulders lifting once in that casual, smirking way of his, and he comes to a stop right in front of Clark, only an arm’s length away: _too close_. He must be able to see Clark’s struggle. It’s an effort not to tremble. Lex calmly answers as if he doesn’t notice a thing, “You said you wanted to be more exciting. That’s not a necklace; it’s a collar.” His smile and glinting eyes say that a collar explains everything, though Clark had meant more exciting _in the bedroom_ and can’t see how this connects.

His bigger concern is: “And the meteor rock?”

Lex shrugs and tilts his head like it’s obvious. “You wanted it for Lana, didn’t you? Didn’t she used to have a necklace with meteor rock that she gave to her last boyfriend?”

She did. And it made Clark’s life impossible. It’s a plausible explanation, and Clark’s in too much paint to deal with suspicion, so he accepts that, accepts with tremendous relief that Lex still can’t know his weakness. Unfortunately, that means he has to tough this out. He opens his mouth to say something about why it isn’t a good idea to mimic Lana’s old necklace, but his knees buckle before he can. He hits the floor with a sharp hiss of pain, back rigid with the effort of not _breaking_.

Concern still flashes over Lex’s face, and he takes half a step forward, asking, “Clark? You alright?”

“Yeah,” Clark lies. “Fine, I just... it’s a collar, right? Just being like a pet.” He tries to give Lex a warm smile but can’t be sure it doesn’t look like a grimace. To his mingled embarrassment and relief, Lex chuckles. He looks almost... _approving_.

“Well, if you want advice to go along with it, I’d say crawling on hands and knees can’t hurt.” The grin makes Clark wonder if Lex has had others crawl on hands and knees for him, then thinks he must have: experience is why Clark went to Lex in the first place. Clark might be a blushing virgin, but Lex Luthor...

Lex probably thinks collaring people like animals child’s play. The mere thought of other people, other boys like Clark, wearing Lex’s jewelry and kneeling for him, makes Clark blush. He tries not to think about it but can’t stop, and it comes with a flick of irritation that he doesn’t quite understand. He shouldn’t care how many other people Lex plays with, but he _does_. He tries to smile and wants to switch the subject.

But Clark takes too long, and Lex decides, “I can always give you more.” Clark tilts his head, and Lex clarifies with a suggestive smirk, “Advice, that is.” Then he turns on the spot and walks off, headed to one of the black leather couches. Clark takes that brief moment without scrutiny to bend over, weathering out the agony with a full-body cringe, then sucks in a mammoth breath and pushes himself forward.

He crawls after Lex, staying on hands and knees across the polished floor because he doesn’t trust himself to walk. When Lex takes his seat, Clark can feel his eyes on Clark’s body, muscles flexing in the slow movement forward, every step exaggerated with the tension of hiding the pain. Meeting Lex’s blue eyes just makes Clark blush all the hotter, so he keeps his gaze down until he’s made it to Lex’s feet. 

“Not bad,” Lex says, voice low. The deep tone is thick with approval, and Clark’s not pleased with himself for liking that. He sits up but stays on his knees, eyes averted. He doesn’t realize how close he’s chosen to sit until Lex’s palm is brushing over his cheek, Lex’s body looming over him, the expensive cut of his cologne filling Clark’s senses. Between the intoxicating smell, the touch of Lex’s hand, and the pain of the kryptonite, Clark’s dizzy. He doesn’t bother to knock Lex’s hand away. He lets Lex caress a tantalizing line from his cheekbone down his jaw, beneath his chin to trace along the collar. Quiet and vaguely _intimate_ , Lex murmurs, “It looks good on you, Clark. You could seduce anyone like this.”

Clark feels bizarrely like _he’s_ the one being seduced. Lex sticks a finger beneath the collar, between that and Clark’s skin, maybe just to test how tight it is, but pulling the kryptonite even those few centimeters away from Clark’s body makes him gasp, the pain lessening—Clark leans forward into Lex’s touch, wanting to keep his hand there, but Lex pulls it away.

The pain resurges. Recovering is difficult. Clark grits his teeth together and mutters, “I didn’t know dogs were good at seduction.”

Lex snorts and calmly informs him, “There are lots of things a human pet can do...” His hand returns, tracing idly along the top of the collar and brushing Clark’s skin—so warm, and _soft_ , he didn’t know Lex could provide such gentle, graceful delight—“Lick his master’s feet, nuzzle into his master’s legs, suck on treats his master gives him...” Lex’s fingertips lift from the collar, reaching back into Clark’s hair. Clark’s eyelids feel heavy, and he’s not sure if it’s from the kryptonite or _Lex_. Lex strokes up the back of Clark’s head and threads long fingers deeply into his hair, sliding across it. While Clark drinks in the attention, Lex purrs, “You’ve always been a good boy, Clark. You’ll probably earn yourself lots of petting.”

Clark shudders and feels both content and humiliated at the same time. Lex is definitely _petting_ him, just like an animal. But, Clark realizes with a start, it is helpful, better—the pleasure, however small, interrupts the pain. He didn’t think something so simple as human touch could counteract that weakness, and it’s probably just a distraction, but it’s a _good one_ , and he needs it. He can’t let Lex see him suffer. So he throws himself into that distraction, using his alien problems for an excuse. He leans into Lex’s touch and lets himself experience that _pleasure_.

Even mildly humiliating as it is, Clark could see the appeal of this. Or at least, could with a master so skilled as Lex. Lex leans further over the couch, so _close_ , and purrs, practically into Clark’s ear, “You are a good boy, aren’t you? Maybe I should fetch a saucer of milk for you to lick off the floor.”

Before he can stop himself, Clark’s mumbled, “ _Lex_ ,” and he’s all too aware that it sounded like a _moan_.

In a heartbeat, Lex’s hand is back to Clark’s collar, fingers looping into it as he jerks Clark up—Clark goes sprawling forward, his chest landing in Lex’s lap and his head hitting Lex’s stomach—it takes him a second to get his bearings again, but Lex doesn’t miss a beat. One hand continues to pet Clark and stroke through his hair, and the other shifts to scratch below Clark’s chin. It forces Clark to look up, eyelids half lowered and vision hazy: it hits him, not for the first time, how horribly _handsome_ Lex is. 

“Lots of people love these sorts of games,” Lex purrs, “but you, Clark, could probably convert anyone.” Clark wants to close his eyes and croon. He’s never been credited with sexual prowess before, and he doesn’t think he’s doing anything now—Lex is doing it all: Clark’s just lucky to be here to receive the attention. He wonders distantly why he ever was mad at Lex at all—surely cutting Lex out of his life was too harsh, when Lex is so talented and gorgeous and alluring. Clark’s legs are spread around Lex’s ankles, and he has to fight the distinct urge to hump Lex’s foot. He really is a dog.

Lex diverts the hand scratching his chin to scratch behind his ear, and that lets Clark tilt his head. He’s breathing hard and feels like he’s panting. He can’t help but glance at Lex’s crotch, so _close_ , and it’s definitely tented—is Lex hard, or is his cock just huge? Clark can’t blame him—Clark’s getting hard, knows he shouldn’t but can’t _not_ , it feels too good. He’s not into men. He’s never really considered it before, but he’s sure he isn’t, couldn’t possibly be, and yet the more he stares at Lex’s crotch, stifling moans as Lex pets and rubs him, he tries to imagine Lex’s cock, wonders what it tastes like, what it’d feel like on his tongue, how wide he’d have to open his jaw to take it and if he could fit it down his throat—

Something catches his eye and draws his attention. It’s Lex’s mouth—Lex’s beautiful, pink lips with that little notch in the middle, practically calling out to Clark—bit Lex is frowning. Something sad has come over his face, and his hands fall away.

Clark misses them immediately. Lex moves, instead, around the back of Clark’s neck, and Clark hears the collar click: it falls open. Weighed down by the iron pendant, it falls right off Clark’s throat and hits Lex’s thigh, sliding over to the couch cushion. Clark can _breathe_ again, though the contrast isn’t as sharp as usual—near the end, he wasn’t aware of much pain at all. 

Lex says, “Lana’s a lucky girl.” He shifts past Clark to stand and walks past him.

For one traitorous minute, Clark wants to follow at a crawl.


End file.
